Oh hey there.

There is so much I want to tell you. Really. Everytime I write something, and go to hit 'publish', I stop. X out the window, move on to reading more Perez. There are some really BIG, exciting (or not) things going on around here, but I just can't tell you yet. I promise I will soon though. This summer should be an adventure-filled one with lots of Mason and poop, and the usual of course.

We are still living with my family - which surprisingly, isn't quite as bad as you would think. I am still attempting to potty-train, but not pushing it quite yet. There is too much going on that I don't think potty training would fair well with. Hopefully I will be back in full force with lots of news and surprises and DETAILS that aren't so creepy and suspicious. Sorry about that. Until then, enjoy the usual photo of the son.

Do you see what I have to deal with?! All the cuteness! My brain can't handle this!

Pee has consumed my life.

That's right, internets. Potty training has commenced. Sadly, we are having to re-train the cats also. First Mason. He really started showing interest in his potty, telling us when he pooped, etc. So imagine my surprise when one day I decided to put him on his potty and HE PEED. I cannot tell you how vigerous my happy dance was that day! THEN, THEN INTERNETS, he did it again, and again! He doesn't quite grasp the whole tell mommy BEFORE you have to go rather than telling me after he has already done it, but I am not pushing it. One day, he told me he had to poop. We put him on the potty and I left Paul to keep an eye on him while I was blow drying my hair. Paul got a phone call and was pacing (per usual) while Mason sat on the potty (he usually doesn't move until we tell him to). At one point I looked up and saw him walking around naked (Mason, not Paul) and I thought he was probably done and continued to dry my hair. Next thing I know, Paul is flailing arms, and yelling NO NO NO!!! and I see a little nugget laying on the floor about 6 inches away from the potty with Mason squatting over it. He had pooped on the floor. A for effort, little man.

The cats. Oh the cats. I woke up one morning to find pee. Everywhere in the house. The cats had started their battle for dominance and we were living on the battle field. So I basically have been cleaning up pee, human and feline, for the last two weeks. I am proud of all of my little potty trainers as they are all making strides. If I ask Mason if he wants to sit on the potty and he says "no" I say okay, and go about my life. If I ask the cats if they are getting along and they say "no" I spray more Feliway. It's going really well!

Thank you mista Easter Bunny

We liked Easter A LOT around here. Mason colored his first eggs, which was more like dropping bombs into what he thought was some new delicous concoction that I was going to start feeding him. Too funny. Who knew vinegar and water was so yummy? Not me.

The Easter bunny was wonderful to Mason. He almost riveled Santa. But alas, Mason has NO CLUE what I am talking about. What bunny? Don't see a bunny? Hrmph. That would be me, mother of the year, who has yet to get a photo of her son screaming smiling on the lap of some smelly dude the Easter bunny. It was in the plans for Saturday, but there was too much going on and HAMS! to pick up. Maybe next year!

Hope you all had a wonderful Easter!

Not again.

As I was running on a treadmill at my "new" gym today, I happen to glance up from the timer on the machine (where I usually STARE, hoping the time will suddenly jump from 25mins to 5mins) and focus directly on the flat screen in front of me that was tuned to CNN. I like news. I like to generally keep up with what is going on because I think it is important. I mean, yes. Jesse James is an asshole and all but there are pretty substantial things going on in this world that are a teeny bit more important. Just then, I saw it. Another teen had committed suicide from the effects of school bullying. Gah. My heart started aching, my stomach dropped. And then it happened. That feeling. The one I felt sososo many times before: anxiety. The racing heart, butterflies, sweaty palms, sickness...you name it. It was there. It all started coming back like a bad movie montage. My adolesence. My experiences.

For some reason, and I don't know if it has to do with technology or what, there has been a lot more attention being focused on school bullying. First the girl and the whole Myspace ordeal. Now this. Of course, there have been way more in between there that have fallen through the media cracks. There have been TONS before then. And there will be more.

I know what you are thinking: get over it, Tiff. Everyone is bullied at one point or another, and it usually sticks with you, causing some irreputible damage. Yes. To some extent, I agree. On the other hand, I would be willing to challenge the majority that what I dealt with was a little more serious. I won't go into tremendous detail about what was done and said to me during mostly 2 years of middle school because I would run out of space. But that's it. TWO YEARS. That is all it took to change me forever. I hated school. I hated social functions. I got through it though- which is more than Phoebe Prince will never get to say. I think I grew from it. I also think there was some damage done that can never be un-done. Damage that causes many issues in my adult life.

You see, I second-guess everyone. I look extremely deep into people's words. Are they taking a jab at me? Is this person's intentions not right? Are they trying to hurt me? I twist words around to make sure that people are doing these things. These horrible things. I don't trust people. This is what I was taught at a very crucial age. The majority of people cannot be trusted. Everyone is out to get me.

Sound's crazy, right? It is. Of course therapy has helped me calm this anxiety. These thoughts. But they still linger. Unfortunately, when you are that special age (somewhere around puberty/middle school/beginnings of high school) and you are becoming the beginnings of an adult, taking in everything, learning about relationships...this is when this shit happens. A lot of adults look at it and say, "Oh, they're just kids. It will make them stronger". Yes, maybe. Eventually. If they make it that long.

I think what frustrates me the most is that nobody tries to do anything. They think they are, but they obviously just aren't doing enough. My mom went to school authorities many times. Tried to make something happen. Of course, my bully was the daughter of a teacher, so you must know how that would play out. Little things happened here and there, and I commend my school district for trying a little. It didn't change anything. Not until it was almost time to move to high school. The clique started dissolving. People started maturing, but that does not mean that it didn't continue on some level.

I guess I could go on and on and if you have stuck with me this long, I thank you. Most of the time, this has to do with jealousy. These girls (mostly) are jealous of someone and just ruthlessly go after them. If you know someone going through this, or if you are a teacher, please TRY to do something. Waiting it out is not the answer. It may be okay, but as in Phoebe Prince's story, it wasn't. Here is a great article to read if you have time. If not, just keep your eyes open and if you see or hear of something going on, try to help.

I promise I will try to be more funny in my next post, but that story really got to me this morning and there has to be something I can do to help. I figured maybe this was a good place to start!

The one where I clog the toilet. Again.

We are being forced to make some very difficult decisions for the new house. We are often asked to get in the car, drive somewhere that sometimes looks like an abandoned crack den, and pick out things. Important things. Like sinks and toilets and lighting fixtures and stone, oh my. Recently, we drove, sans child of course (because an 18 month-old + lighting fixtures/unsecured sinks does not = a good time, or rational decisions) about 30 miles away to pick out the plumbing fixtures for our new house. It wasn't in the best part of town, and after seeing the building, our conversation went something like this:
Me: This is a little scary.
Paul: Well, they are wholesalers.
Me: Wholesalers, as in, we steal this stuff and sell it to you for a reasonable price?
Paul: Possibly.

As I said before, this building somewhat resembled an abandoned crack den. This was not par for our contractor - he usually sends us to really nice showrooms because he lacks the ability to do anything half-assed. Or cheap. Ahem. Anywho, I had a feeling that we were going to stumble upon a.) a syringe-toting drug lord that would rob us of everything we have - including my mom's car (that's right, we live with them AND drive their vehicles) or b.) the land of Oz-like showroom. Luckily for us, it turned out to be the latter. Sort of. It was definitely very un-assuming on the outside, let's just leave it at that.

We met a very nice lady, who made sure to make it very clear that she was the only one who was working there and that they closed at 4:30 (instead of the 5 o'clock that was posted on the door) and that she no longer worked Saturdays. We started in on the kitchen sinks and she had to run into her office to look something up when the feeling came over me: I had to poop. Now. I told Paul that I needed to use the restroom and he directed me toward the back of the showroom. When I got in there, I was totally expecting to be blown away by the coolest fixtures they had to offer. Letdown. Then I noticed a sign beside the toilet: PLEASE RETURN THE SEAT TO THE CLOSED POSITION AS THIS IS A WORKING EXHIBIT. Nice. So, what they were trying to tell me is, if I really liked that particular toilet, the lady would say, "Oh, sure. Come with me into the ladies room. We have a working exhibit!" Eww. Just as I was reading the sign I thought to myself, "Gee, self. It would really suck to clog this bitch up". I finished my business and flushed....

DAMNIT. ShitshitshitSHIT! Clogged. I swear, for such a small person I can really drop some logs. I panicked and looked around. No plunger. Not behind the toilet, not under the sink. Nothing. Men's room. If there is one thing I know it is that men always have the plunger. I ran over and peeked in. Nothing. I was going to have to do the unthinkable: reach in and pull that turd out go ask for a plunger. I arrived before the saleswoman returned and whispered to Paul that I had clogged the toilet. No, there is not plunger. No, not even in the men's room. Then he told me to reach in. F that! When the lady came back I said, "This is really embarrassing, but do you have a plunger?" she ignored me so I spoke up, "DO YOU HAVE AH PLUNGER?!" she looked up at my red face and said, "Uh, no. Don't think so. Don't worry about it hun. I'll call the guy." Oh Jesus. Great. She was going to have to call someone who was going to have to plung out my shit probably a good 3 hours later. Poor soul. We SOOoooo weren't going to get their best prices.

As you can imagine, moving on from that conversation and back to the task at hand was kind of akward. For me at least. She seemed to not skip a beat and went about showing us the options for soaking tubs. Sure. Whatever. Got any of those around? I am sure I can somehow clog the drain with hair or something gross. Needless to say, it was an awesome day. I was pretty proud of myself as that was my first real public clogging. If the quote that we recieved for the plumbing fixtures is any indication of the impression I made on the saleslady, it was rich. Priceless even.

Just a little sleepy.

There isn't too much going on over here. We are dealing with allergies now, because the other sickness has moved on, so you know, there has to be something new. We can't ever just be healthy. Not until at least May...Anyways, here is kind of what has been going on:
Just your typical Luc narcolepsy.


Hope everyone else is doing better than the bubble family!

Slow down, you're moving too fast.

I guess I can update my blog now that we are officially moved in with my parents. I know, freeloaders. I am not going to lie and say this was totally easy for all of us. I mean, with the pouring rain on moving day, the croup outbreak, missing the old house, old gym, friends, family, life, etc. but it is for the best and I know it will get easier. Mason is having a great time...well, minus the croup. Did I mention he has croup? Yeah. Something that we had to go to an urgent care facility to get perscriptions for considering we are now an hour away from his pediatrician. It was in that same urgent care facility that he had a major meltdown after skipping a nap and refusing to follow the NO EATING, NO DRINKING, & NO CELL PHONE rules...okay, I broke the last one.

I went and got a gym membership today at a place that I used to belong to...in high school. It is still the same, which almost made me cry because I realized how spoiled I had become and how instead of trying to catch up with a new, faster life, I must now learn how to slow down, minimize, and relax. Perhaps even find my happiness again. Now, before you go getting all confused, it is not that I am unhappy, but  I have certainly become hardened with life, age and responsibility. I am hoping that returning to my roots will find me in the same mindset that I had before college, cheating boyfriends, bad job experience and post-partum depression. I am also hoping that being within walking distance to family members and friends will help me drop the guilt of not being close to them, and them not getting to watch Mason grow up.

I think we will all be fine. I can do this. It just takes time and patience - which I am pretty bad at, but I can do this.